


Desert Son

by Huntress79



Category: White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Professors, F/M, M/M, White Collar Reverse Big Bang
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 22:38:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12443283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huntress79/pseuds/Huntress79
Summary: In 1947, Neal is one of the youngest professors for Anthropology and North African History at the Columbia University in New York ever. He's about to get married to Kate when he gets the opportunity of a lifetime - participating in an expedition through the Northern part of the Sahara, studying the people there, their history, their daily life. Of course, he agrees, and that's the last time anyone has seen him.Ten years later, Kate is married to Neal's former best friend, Matt Keller (also a professor). He finally wants Neal's "ghost" gone from their marriage, and so he goes to P.I. Peter Burke, who accepts the job (Keller is wealthy, so the paycheck is rather nice). Together with Neal's former assistant, Sara Ellis, he retraces the professor's steps, which end at a magical oasis somewhere in the desert. What they find there is not what they thought and could be the beginning of something exciting and wonderful...





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NYWCgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NYWCgirl/gifts).



> Written for Round 3 of the [WC Reverse Big Bang over at Dreamwidth](https://wc-reverse-bb.dreamwidth.org/), and the wonderful art prompt made by [nywcgirl](https://nywcgirl.dreamwidth.org/). Sweetie, I’m utterly sorry for not only being too late to post (I really had October 21st in my mind *headdesk*), but also for not being the most responsive collaboration partner over the last few months, and on top of that, for not finishing the story and posting it un-betaed. But rest assured, I’m determined to finish what I started, and I’m working on a plan on how to get the chapters over to my beta reader without having to rely on my momentarily not so trustworthy email account. Nonetheless, enjoy the trip! Oh, and the people of Tuan are heavily based on the still exisiting Tuareg tribes of Northern Africa, also known as the "blue people".

[ ](https://i.imgur.com/zgkFHT9.jpg)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Prologue**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Somewhere in the Sahara Desert_  
Night Camp

By pure instinct alone, Neal Caffrey knew that the rest of “his” tribe was fast asleep. Even the animals they had were next to completely silent, only a soft wind coming from the dunes around the camp could be heard. And still, try as he might, for the first time in a long time, sleep seemed to elude him.

No big surprise here, as memories and thoughts, both old and new, apparently held a race in his head. Sure, he always thought back on his old life back in New York; his career as the youngest professor for Anthropology and North African History at the Columbia University ever; his fiancée Kate, who he left for following his biggest dream – an expedition to study the people of Tuan, the last remnants of what once was the second largest high culture in Northern Africa, topped only by the more famous one of the Egypts.

Maybe, so Neal concluded once he heard the first calls of Morpheus, maybe it was happening right now that he couldn’t sleep because he finally had realized something.

Maybe it was because for the first time since living with his Aunt Ellen all those years ago, he felt at home – not in a place, but in his tribe, in the people of Tuan.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	2. P.I. For Hire

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Chapter 1 – P.I. For Hire**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Brooklyn, New York_

 

Some thousand miles away, Peter Burke was already busy working on his latest case. After coming home from the war, life did a 180 on him, despite him being a decorated war hero, as well as a prisoner of war.

Elizabeth, his wife, left for greener pastures, so to speak, finding them in another man. Funny enough, Peter couldn’t really hold a grudge against her for doing exactly that. He went missing in action, and for a long while, the military officials told her and his parents repeatedly that there was next to no hope of ever finding him, even less for him still being alive. For all they knew, he could’ve been one of thousands of soldiers who gave their life on the war fields from Europe to Africa and the Pacific Theatre.

When he finally came home to New York, almost 10 months after Hitler’s capitulation and three weeks after his liberation from a Japanese prisoner’s camp, Peter only had to take one look at her to know what was going on. They had a long talk, in which Elizabeth even apologized under tears for giving up on him. But with every day going by, bringing only bad news of yet another battle ship sunk by a torpedo, of more lives claimed, the flame of hope of seeing Peter ever again died a bit more. And now, there was not enough left to rekindle it, at least not in a romantic sense of words.

Having sustained a gun-shot wound to his right leg during one of the battles of Guadalcanal, Peter had to finish basic physical therapy if he ever wanted to go back to his old job as a police officer for the NYPD. Which he definitely wanted, as he considered it giving him back at least some kind of stability and regular hours. Well, at least, that was the plan.

The Sunday before he had planned on showing up at his old precinct, Peter got a surprise visit from his mentor and fatherly friend, Commissioner Reese Hughes. Who told him straight away that they had to refill his place in the force, since it wasn’t sure if he would ever return at all from the war, not considering his mental and physical condition. And now, as happy as Reese Hughes was aboutt seeing him being alive and well, there was no place at the NYPD for Peter Burke, not anymore.

The first couple of weeks afterwards, Peter was in an almost constant haze, and more often drunk than not. Then, one day after leaving therapy, he ran into his old teacher at the academy, Philip Kramer. Over a beer, the man gave him the sound advice to “suck it up” and apply for a license, in order to become a private investigator.

That all happened a little over ten years ago. Now, he had enough clients a month to not only give him and his faithful companion, a Golden Retriever going by the name of “Satchmo” a rather good life, he also could spare a dime to go over to the new Veteran’s Center downtown once a week for more therapy on his still crappy leg.

Right now, he was working on the case of the recently widowed Sophie Covington. The wife of Greg Covington’s assistant had approached him the day of Greg’s funeral and asked him to investigate Sophie, accusing her not only to have an affair with her husband, but also for killing Greg to inherit his money.

So far, Peter only had found out that Sophie already had set up a trust fund for her heritage, intended to keep it together before donating it all to some charity organizations. He was just about to go through some financial records he got from Greg Covington’s lawyer (who only had good words on Sophie, but bad on the other woman) when there was a knock on his door. Satchmo, lying in his favorite place at Peter’s feet, was on alert in an instant, his whole body ready to protect his master. Peter himself grabbed his old military service weapon from a drawer and put it on the small table next to the door, hiding it behind a potted plant before opening the door.

“Mr. Peter Burke, the P.I.?”

The man in front of him was smaller than Peter himself (which had nothing to do that he was standing on the second step from the top). And if he was going by the first impression alone, he probably would label the guy as shady, or crooked, but Peter knew that this first impression, while being considered important, mostly said next to nothing about the true character of a person.

“Maybe. Depends on what you want from him.”

Surprisingly enough, instead of getting angry, the man only gave a chuckle and shook his head in amusement.

“Dang it, but David Siegel was right when he said that you would probably answer a question with a question or something close to that.” Another chuckle followed. “Guess I owe him now a nice bottle of Scottish whiskey.”

Hearing the name of his former best friend, partner at the NYPD and best man at his wedding who turned out to be the guy Elizabeth fell in love with gave Peter a heavy tug on his heart strings. How on Earth did this guy know him?

“How do you know David?”

“Met him and his fiancée at a reception recently. I knew that he got promoted to Detective just the other day, and I hoped that he might know a solution to my problem.”

“And he sent you to me?”

Peter asked, incredulity and astonishment coloring his voice. Sure, he and Elizabeth remained friends after the divorce (or at least they tried to), but on the other hand he and David had severed almost all ties of friendship. Try as he might, Peter just couldn’t be friends with a man who was bedding his ex-wife.

“Absolutely. He also said that you were the best partner a rookie could ask for. And that he wouldn’t have gotten that promotion without everything you once taught him.”

At last, Peter stepped aside and let the man enter. When he had started out as a P.I., he had turned the former living room into an office, separating it from the rest of the ground floor with an added wall.

“So, Mr.….?”

“Keller”, the man said while extending his hand, “Matthew Keller.”

“Well, Mr. Keller, have a seat. You want something to drink?”

“No, but thank you.” He sat down on the small couch by the windows, Peter followed, taking a seat opposite Keller.

“I… I don’t know what exactly qualifies as an ʻusualʼ case for a P.I., but I’m rather sure that mine isn’t your usual menu.”

“What makes you think so?”

Peter just had to ask. While there was no clear definition, a P.I. usually did all the jobs the police couldn’t or wouldn’t do. And that were way more than one would have thought.

“Cause if the tables were turned, you would be my prime suspect, only after hearing the story.”

“Just tell me your story, Mr. Keller, and leave the worrying to me.”

“Before I start, let me tell you that I do this all for my wife. She needs a closure on this chapter of her past. Sure, it’s also an attempt to save the future of our marriage, but not so much as the first reason. And I’m honestly fed up with having to fight with a ghost.”

“So it’s about an ex of your wife?” Peter summed up.

“Yeah, and he also was a colleague of mine at the Columbia.” Keller looked up to lock gazes with Peter, who couldn’t quite stop a rather surprised expression. “Yeah, that’s quite a common reaction I get whenever I’m telling people what I really do for a living. I’m teaching English and Geology for almost twenty years. And the guy I’m looking for is one Neal Caffrey, once labeled ʻWunderkindʼ, since he started teaching at the rather tender age of 23.” Keller leant back, a far-away look blossoming on his face. “God, he was annoyingly honest, downright handsome, and way too goodhearted to work among all of us cynicals.” He chuckled. “Some of us have a tradition going on. At the beginning of the term, we would sit in any of the classes of the new teaching staff, in the back, and ask the craziest questions we can come up with. I did it with Neal in Anthropology, but different to others, he would answer even the craziest ones. And that was the starting point of our friendship.”

“And how did it end?” Peter asked, his mind already coming up with a couple of not so pretty scenarios on that topic.

“Ten years ago, Neal got the offer of a lifetime, at least for a passionate anthropologist like him. A European university offered him a full-paid participation on their expedition to Northern Africa to study the people of”, he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, “Tuan.”

“Never heard of them before”, Peter admitted.

“No big surprise, since they’ve been almost extinct over the centuries, thanks to climate changes and wars.” He sighed. “Last we heard of Neal was from Tunis, Tunisia, the starting point of the expedition.” He handed Peter a postcard, the back full of text in what Peter assumed was Neal’s handwriting – neat, yet energetic.

“And how’s that guy really connected to your wife?”

Peter had a hunch, based on Keller having confirmed earlier that Neal was an ex, but he needed to hear it from Keller.

“Back then, my wife Kate was Neal’s fiancée. They were going to get married in May; Neal got the offer in January and left in March. And no, I didn’t snatch her off of her feet the minute he was gone. For the first few years, I was pretty much the only thing she had left of Neal, next to her memories. She only fell in love with me about two years ago, while I loved her from afar ever since Neal introduced her to me a the Columbia Christmas Dinner the year he started.”

“And still, Neal’s ʻghostʼ is interfering with your marriage?”

“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong. I love Neal like a brother, I’ll be the first in line to welcome him home, if he’s still alive, but I want that closure for the sake of Kate. She thinks I don’t take notice, but every now and then, she has this lost, far-away expression on her face, and I know that’s when she’s caught up in her memories, when she’s thinking of him.”

“So you think if I can find any trace of him, dead or alive, she would be able to move on?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Keller was about to get up when another thought struck him. “Oh, and money shouldn’t be an issue. I come from a rather wealthy family, and I put most of my heritage in a fund. Whatever you need, just say the word. I’ll make sure you’ll get it as soon as possible.”

He handed Peter a delicately designed business card, shook hands with him and was gone, leaving Peter to his own thoughts on that new case.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	3. A Storm Is Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter makes progress on the case; Neal senses a change on the horizon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Chapter 2 – A Storm Is Coming**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Sahara Desert, Day_

 

In the first few years he was living with the people of Tuan, Neal always marveled about their general sense of direction. Sure, as an anthropologist he knew that the more primitive a race was, the more their primal senses were developed and attuned to nature, rivaled only by some animals. But still, there was quite a difference between hearing it from the teachers or reading it in a book to witnessing it with your own eyes.

These days, though, Neal’s senses were almost as keen as theirs. One of the amghars in their amenokal even said that his were better than, since Neal even felt the smallest change in the nature around them, subsequently preventing the whole tribe from what otherwise might have ended in dire consequences.

Right now, Neal was riding along with the rest of the tribe when he felt the desert wind, a constant companion for them, picking up on speed, if ever so slightly that most of the tribe didn’t even notice it. Not even his horse paid attention to it. On any other occasion, Neal would have thought that the tribe would need a storm-safe shelter in the near future, but this time, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more than meets the eye to it. From the depths of his mind he got the impression that he had felt something similar a long time ago, but Neal couldn’t place a finger on it. He couldn’t quite contain a groan when he felt his intestines clenching violently. There was definitely something big about to happen, and if his body wasn't sending out false signals, it wasn’t something good. Not at all.

[ ](https://i.imgur.com/1iUforP.jpg)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_New York, Day_

Back in the Big Apple, Peter Burke was making quite some progress in his latest case. He already had a long talk over some extremely delicious Italian cappuccino with Neal’s honorary Aunt and former landlady, one fine lady going by the name of June Ellington. And yet, when he left her Riverside Drive mansion almost three hours later, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she was holding back. Sure enough, she had answered every single one of his questions with the right amount of compassion, but somehow, Peter couldn’t help but feel that there was more to the whole thing than meets the eye. Either she knew more about Neal’s current whereabouts, or there was something dark surrounding the young man that she was bound to protect at any cost. Anyway, he told himself when he finally called it a night, he wouldn’t get any answers when mulling about all night (only lose some precious hours of sleep). Maybe, his two interviews at the Columbia tomorrow would shine a light at the whole topic.

The next morning still came too soon for his liking, but nonetheless, after his morning routine with Satchmo and a good breakfast, Peter donned a suit and headed over to the campus of the university, where he was set to meet both the Dean and Neal’s former personal assistant. As any private investigator worth his money, Peter had done some preliminary research on these two people. Though that had proved to be more difficult as expected, on both accounts.

Edward Price, Dean of the Columbia for the past 15 years, turned out to be an enigma wrapped in a riddle wrapped in a mystery. Though he was known to be friends with a whole slew of influential people in both politics and economics, starting with the Mayor of New York, his life so far mostly was kept hidden. Only tidbits of the work-related part got out, and with half of them Peter wasn’t sure if they even were true.

Exiting Price’s office after a rather tiring two-hour talk to the man, Peter could add some things to the file he already had in his mind. First of all, the man the charisma of a shark, paired with the oily bluntness of a salesman desperately trying to meet his monthly goal. And on top of that, Peter had the suspicion that Price had the whole conversation, or at least his part of it, practiced before. The answers he got were almost too perfect and yet evasive enough to keep the air of indifference Price emitted even on pictures firmly in place.

Whitney, Price’s personal secretary, got assigned to accompany Peter across the campus to the faculty building for Anthropology, but Peter asked her to show him the cafeteria first. Though he didn’t talk as much as Price did, his throat felt dry, drier than the desert, and he knew he couldn’t sit through another round of Q & A without getting something to drink first. Additional, despite the long talk to Price, he still had some time left before has due to meet Sara Ellis.

The young woman was, just like Price, a box of mysteries. Before starting to work for Caffrey 12 years ago, Sara seemed to have a nearly non-existent life. Sure, he found a few entries about her achievements in school, or an article in a local newspaper regarding her short-time engagement to a Midwest quarterback by the name of Bryan McKenzie (they ended things not only five months later) – typical stuff. But the most interesting fact Peter had managed to dig up was an article about her older sister Emily, who vanished from their hometown when Sara was just 13 years old. According to the police report he managed to get a hold of, they considered it a “teenage runaway” and stopped investigating it and looking for the young woman no two weeks after her disappearance.

A bell chimed in the distance and brought Peter out of his reverie. Turning around to the big clock on the wall to his right, he realized that he had spent more time with “case-related daydreaming” than expected, and that his next interview was already around the corner – in the most literal sense of words.

“There you are”, a young woman said in lieu of an introduction as she planted herself on the other side of his table. When Peter’s answer consisted only of a confused gaze and a raised eyebrow, she heaved a theatrically exaggerated sigh. “I’ve been waiting for you, Mr. Burke.”

Letting her off the proverbial hook at last, Peter got up and shook hands with her. “Believe it or not, Miss Ellis, but I was just about to get up and head over to the Anthropology faculty.”

“Yeah, whatever gets you through the night”, Sara returned with a shrug, but the smile blooming on her face told Peter that there was no real force behind her answer.

They crossed the main lawn, and once again, Peter couldn’t help but marvel at the timeless beauty of this part of the campus. Sure, they had expanded in the past few years and added modern buildings and wings, but most of the faculty buildings were built in the architectonical style of the Victorian Era, one that Peter loved ever since he had visited relatives down in South Carolina and Georgia for the first time as a ten-year-old boy.

Sara led him through the long main hallway of the building before entering a spacious corner office, which was overlooking the main lawn.

“Wow”, was all Peter got out once he remembered his ability to speak at all.

“I know, right?” Sara asked with a sparkle to both her voice and her eyes. “I honestly can’t think of anyone coming in here and NOT reacting to the spectacular view.”

Tearing his gaze away from the large windows, Peter turned around to take in the room itself, garnering some information without having to ask any questions.

“I take it this was Mr. Caffrey’s office back then?”

“It still is. Professor Keller promised a rather large donation to the University, on the condition that the room stays the same, hopefully until the day Neal returns.”

“Neal?” Even back in the day when he himself was a rookie police officer, Peter already had a knack for picking up such details, and he felt some pride surging in him that he apparently still had it.

“He told me to call him that way, and only that way, on my first day”, Sara answered with a slight blush. “His students got almost the same speech, and while some of the older professors weren’t happy about it, stating that it was the first step to some lack of respect for a teacher, Neal’s popularity among the students went skyrocketing. I remember that even students from other courses came to him for advice, be it for school or life in general.”

“Did Neal have any enemies? Maybe another professor who didn’t like his ways of teaching and interacting with the students?”

“No, not at all. Sure, some were a bit miffed about his easy-going charm, or the way he could make even the dullest topic interesting, but none of them would go and harm him for that.”

“Maybe not here, where it could be possibly tracked back to them, but with him going abroad for an expedition….” Peter trailed off, letting her make the conclusion on her own.

“No,” Sara said with a shake of her head, “I don’t think so.” She paused, her face morphing into an expression of thought. “To be honest, there’s only one guy who I think could pull off something like that and get away with it.” She looked up, fixing Peter with a hard-leveled gaze. “Ever heard of Vincent Adler?”

“No,” Peter said with a shake of his head, while his mind raced to find anything connected to that new name.

“Pardon my French, but Adler can be summed up in two words: ʻsleazy bastardʼ.” Sara said them with as much venom as possible to her voice and gave a full-body shudder for emphasis.

“And how’s that so?”

Sara took a deep breath, grounding and steeling herself for her answer.

“First of all, he’s a sexist. Sure, he’s definitely not the only one around, but unlike others, he’s not above saying all his derogative comments right into your face, preferably when there’s a whole room hanging onto his lips.”

“Sounds like you’ve been on the receiving end of it once.”

“Once?!?!” Sara echoed, her voice raising a pitch with incredulity. “I wish it would only have been once. But no, every time he was around here, he made sure that we all saw him talking to Price and most of all heard him say that women like me or Whitney would be better off married and popping kids – his words, not mine – than around here, cause according to him, these were the only two jobs a woman was capable of. Anything else would only end in disaster in his eyes.”

Peter couldn’t quite hide the shudder at her words. “Bastard” was a rather nice way to describe this Adler guy, of that he was sure.

“And how’s he and all that related to Neal?”

“Kate Moreau, Neal’s fiancée back then and now Mrs. Matthew Keller, is, I think, his niece or something like that. I know that these two are related in some way or other, but I didn’t keep the details, sorry.”

“That’s okay, Sara, you had better things to worry about than something like that.”

Seeing the slight smile blossoming on her face, Peter finally realized, a bit belated, his slip-up.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Burke, I would have offered it to you anytime soon anyway.”

Peter exhaled visibly, glad that she didn’t take offence. It was one of the few unwritten laws of the whole P.I. society that you didn’t call anyone involved in your current case by their Christian name at all. Children were excluded, as well as when someone, just like Sara did, offered it to you on their own free will. Anything else was frowned upon, considered a cardinal sin and a sure-fire way of getting bad reputation and being viewed unprofessional.

“What can you tell you me about Kate? Have you ever met her?”

“Yeah, but only once or twice. And on those occasions, we’ve exchanged just some greetings. She’s, from what I have gathered, the complete opposite to Neal. Sure, the saying goes that opposites attract, but I failed to see that attraction. I barely saw her talking to anyone, except for Neal and once to Keller, on those events, and somehow, I felt sorry for her when Neal left for that expedition.”

“Why so?”

“Because I think that she saw Neal as a means to freedom, her marriage to him as a way of getting out of living under Adler’s thumb. Neal once mentioned that Adler took her in after she lost her parents at a rather young age, so she apparently grew up with his twisted view on women. In the end, Neal going on that expedition no two months before the wedding must have been like a slap to her face.”

“What about Keller?”

“Oh, he’s pretty harmless. Sure, he has both the looks and the mouth of small-time crook, and I’m honestly surprised that he can keep himself out of more trouble due to that, but deep down, he’s just a regular guy.” Sara chuckled. “A regular guy who had a crush on his best friend’s fiancée from the moment he saw her.”

“He told me about it when he hired me,” Peter added. “On any other case, I would look into a guy confessing that, especially when he later get married to that woman, as it would make an excellent motive, but somehow, there was so much honesty in his words that I can’t do it.”

“I know. And I also think that Keller was or still is a bit in love with Neal too. Maybe not in the common sense of love, or with any physical attraction, but more like a brother’s love for his sibling, you understand?” Peter nodded, urging her to continue. “Emma, Keller’s assistant, once told me that he grew up in a big, empty house. His parents were globetrotters, leaving their only child in the care of the staff while they were traveling the world. Apparently, he had a brother, but that boy died at a young age.”

“So you think he saw Neal as a younger brother?”

“Absolutely,” Sara said with a nod. “He really got protective of Neal, always jumping to his defense whenever another professor said something bad about him. And while he was instantly smitten with Kate, he was vary about Adler, and his possible negative influence on Neal once the wedding was over.”

“You say that in a way that you don’t think so.”

“No, I don’t. I’ve met a lot of people in my life so far, and Neal is one of the most strong-willing among them. If he has set his mind to anything, he gets it, and he doesn’t allow anyone to deter him from the path. Sure he’s also bound to fail to see any dangers on that path to his goal, but he would argue that the goal, whatever it is, is worth some cuts, bruises and wounds.”

“You know him better than anyone else, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do. And yes, I admit I might have had a crush on him.” She turned around, grabbing a framed picture from the desk and handed it over to Peter. For the first time, Peter saw the guy in question, if only on a photograph. “But then again: who wouldn’t?”

Peter only nodded, taking every detail the pic provided on the young professor. And he only could agree on what Sara had said. Hell, he was straight all the way, but the way the clear blue eyes of Neal pierced through him, even from a picture, made him think twice. Add in the dark locks, the slim built of Neal’s body, and the soft smile he had on his face, and Peter would sign that he, like other people before him, was smitten with the guy. All the more reason to find out whatever happened to him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossar:
> 
> amghar: Clan or Tribe chieftain  
> amenokal: several clans / tribes traveling together


End file.
